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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25677289">three of hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damkianna/pseuds/Damkianna'>Damkianna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beltane, Developing Relationship, F/F, Healing, Protectiveness, Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/F/F, emotional tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:20:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25677289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damkianna/pseuds/Damkianna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Raelle felt it first.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abigail Bellweather/Raelle Collar/Tally Craven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Rare Pairs Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>three of hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyjax/gifts">ladyjax</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This only just about works its way up to "knowing they have something special and trying to figure out what it means", ladyjax—but I hope very much that you enjoy it, and that you've had a wonderful Rarepairs experience! :D</p><p>This is canon divergence in that it rewrites Beltane the way I wanted it to go in my OT3 heart of hearts; it is also tacitly a universe in which Scylla does not exist/did not come to Fort Salem/has not sought out Raelle, and/or Raelle's mother has picked a different method for drawing her to the Spree that hasn't reared its head yet.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Raelle felt it first.</p><p>She'd thought about it before, sometimes. Not seriously, or anything. Just every now and then. It wasn't like she was going to do anything about it. She knew herself, she knew how she felt about other girls, and she'd been handed two of them to live with, eat with, dress with, sleep in the same room with. Of course she thought about it.</p><p>Abigail first, just because she was so fucking stunning—those eyes, that mouth. Even the stuck-up attitude, the frosty look and the perfect pressed uniform, kind of just made Raelle want to mess her up, take her apart, make it so she couldn't look down her nose and glare anymore because she'd be too busy panting and squirming, digging her fingers into Raelle's hair—</p><p>It took a little longer with Tally. Tally snuck up on her. She was just so <em>earnest</em>. Raelle hadn't always had much patience for that. She didn't expect it to get to her. But Tally was so heartfelt about it, with those big brown eyes of hers. Kind, gentle, but there was steel hidden in there, too; and the first time she smiled wide enough to show those dimples, well. Raelle had always been kind of easy for dimples.</p><p>But it didn't actually matter or anything. Not then, not to start with.</p><p>Raelle had come to Fort Salem to screw up, to wash out. She'd come to Fort Salem to make a point, to flash-burn her way through their orderly little system and leave it smoking behind her. She wasn't going to let this unit she'd been stuck in stop her.</p><p>Or at least she hadn't meant to.</p><p>Somehow it happened anyway, though, a bit at a time. She was—she <em>liked</em> them, kind of. She hadn't planned to, but she did. Abigail was infuriating, but little moments started to pile up: moments when she was tired, moments when she was afraid; moments when Raelle couldn't help but understand what it was like to want something you were scared you couldn't get, what it was like to be desperate to walk a path you'd chosen because of your mother. And Tally—Tally was sweet and strong and way too easy to talk to. Raelle hadn't ever had trouble <em>not</em> opening up to anyone, but Tally made it a comfort. It was <em>weird</em>.</p><p>It was—good.</p><p>But it took a while for her to realize it was starting to add up into something else.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was in the middle of scourge training. That was when it happened.</p><p>It was hardly anything, really. Maybe—maybe the scourge training didn't help. They were almost a week into it, by now, and all of them were getting steadily better with the long whips; they'd stripped their uniform jackets off, too, to avoid tearing them up with the scourge tips when it wasn't an actual combat situation. Raelle was already spending a little too much time trying not to look at Abigail's shoulders, Tally's forearms.</p><p>And then Libba Swythe just had to take a sharper, wider-curving swing than Anacostia had ordered, and she caught Abigail across the ribs and Tally, next to her, deep in the crease of the elbow.</p><p>Abigail was furious, and about to do something stupid. Tally was watching with huge eyes, clearly not sure what to do, stubborn desire to back up Abigal in a tug-of-war with her awareness that Anacostia might turn around any minute and then they'd all be in trouble, no matter who'd started it.</p><p>Raelle stepped away from her training partner without hesitation, and caught Abigail's wrist in one hand and Tally's in the other.</p><p>"Don't," she said.</p><p>She probably shouldn't have. She probably should've been happy to let Abigail be the one to get them marked down this time, so it wouldn't be Raelle alone who'd forced the unit to flame out.</p><p>But—<em>Abigail</em> wouldn't be happy about it, once she was done being pissed at Libba Swythe.</p><p>And that shouldn't have mattered, but it did.</p><p>Abigail was gritting her teeth, glaring over Raelle's shoulder at Libba; but she hadn't broken Raelle's grip on her wrist. Tally just looked grateful, in that sober sincere way she had.</p><p>"Come on," Raelle said, and stroked her thumb along the inside of Abigail's wrist. Firmly, pointedly; she didn't mean it like—</p><p>But she felt too aware of having done it, suddenly, as Abigail finally looked away from Libba Swythe and met Raelle's eyes instead. It was like they were the only three people in the room, then, Abigail and Tally both looking at Raelle, Raelle's hands on them keeping them together, connecting them, a live wire.</p><p>Raelle's face felt hot. She ignored it. She glanced at Tally, and then back at Abigail, and swallowed; and then she whispered, "I cried, O Lord, and, answering, you healed my broken heart," and the magic whispered with her.</p><p>The wounds were small ones. They opened across her ribs, her own elbow, as they closed on Abigail and Tally. She breathed through it and waited, and in another handful of moments, they'd closed on her, too, and were gone.</p><p>"You didn't have to do that," Abigail said quietly.</p><p>Raelle looked away, and shrugged. She hadn't let go of either of their wrists. She should. She didn't. "It's fine," she said. "It's not a big deal."</p><p>"Thank you," Tally said, and turned her hand under Raelle's—caught Raelle's, and tangled their fingers together.</p><p>Abigail blew out a breath, deliberate, and the rest of her anger went with it; Raelle could see it in her face. "Yeah," she agreed, and then her mouth quirked. "Thanks, shitbird."</p><p>"Always so <em>gracious</em>," Raelle murmured, dry.</p><p>But her heart was pounding, and she didn't want to let go. She didn't want to let go of <em>either</em> of them, and shit, she thought. Shit. She didn't need this.</p><p>She didn't need this, and she should forget about it.</p><p>But she knew already that she wasn't going to be able to.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Abigail was next.</p><p>It took longer for her to notice. It wasn't anything she'd ever thought about before—it wasn't anything anyone around her had ever treated as a possibility. There were no examples to follow, and following examples was the only thing Abigail had ever been taught to do, for as long as she could remember.</p><p>Bellweather witches didn't fall in love with other witches, other <em>women</em>. Or at least, if they had, no one had ever told Abigail about it.</p><p>There was so much that was already on the list of things Bellweathers did, the list of things Abigail was supposed to do. She didn't have time for anything else.</p><p>But figuring out how to make her unit work—that was on the list. She hadn't wanted it to be, but her mother had made it clear that it was, and there was nothing Abigail could do about it.</p><p>She'd been angry, for a while. Furious. That she was stuck with <em>Raelle</em> felt like punishment for something she hadn't even done wrong. Tally was fine, she could work with Tally. Tally at least believed in something, and believed in it enough to want to succeed and do well. But Raelle was going to ruin Abigail's entire life—not just her time at Fort Salem, but everything that came after it, and she didn't even care. It was enraging. It was unbelievable.</p><p>But then things started to change.</p><p>Raelle was—Raelle was <em>good</em>, when she wanted to be. The very first time they sang together, as a unit, Abigail could feel it. All three of them, they were good <em>together</em>. They fit, and the magic knew it. They made each other stronger. They were—they were supposed to be like this.</p><p>And suddenly Abigail didn't mind her unit assignment so much anymore.</p><p>It still wasn't easy. But once they knew they could work together, really work together—once they'd had that feeling, once they knew what it was like—they knew they could do it again.</p><p>They were a unit, and not just because they'd been assigned to be. And they weren't just any unit; they were the Bellweather unit. They were <em>Abigail's</em>, Raelle and Tally both.</p><p>And that meant something to Abigail, suddenly. Something it hadn't meant before.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It wasn't the first time, and it wasn't the last time. Abigail didn't know why it was then, why that was what made it all abruptly clear to her; she went over it afterward, again and again, and she still couldn't figure it out, couldn't understand why that had done it.</p><p>Raelle had an attitude. You could tell just by looking at her, just by the way she looked back. There was something about the angle she liked to hold her chin, how her eyes went hard and flinty, that said nothing you could do was going to impress her—nothing you could do was going to touch her.</p><p>Abigail had hated it, when Raelle had pointed that look her way. It had never occurred to her that the reason it had pissed her off was because—because she <em>wanted</em> to touch Raelle, <em>wanted</em> to leave an impression when she did.</p><p>But that didn't mean she was going to put up with anybody else hating it.</p><p>She didn't even know what had started it. She didn't get there until it had already started; after training, in the locker room where everybody had been cleaning up afterward, but Abigail had stayed back to ask Anacostia for her assessment. She jogged in, already hearing raised voices, idly wondering what in the world was going on.</p><p>And then she got through the door, and saw Raelle and Tally, and all her hackles went up at once.</p><p>Raelle was standing still, quiet, face turned away—blank, like nothing was happening at all, like there was no one in the locker room but her. Which was about the clearest sign that something was definitely up that Abigail could have asked for.</p><p>And Tally was standing between her and three other girls, glaring, fierce and steely, the way Tally only ever got when somebody besides her might get hurt.</p><p>The Cartwright unit, Abigail saw. Cartwright, O'Malley, Huang.</p><p>Abigail had met Bithiah Cartwright before. Their families were loosely acquainted. It had never been particularly hard to be pleasant to her.</p><p>But now, Abigail decided in an instant that she had never particularly liked Bithiah Cartwright, either.</p><p>"Is there a problem here?" Abigail said, voice raised, deliberately mild.</p><p>Bithiah Cartwright's lip curled. "No problem at all," she said, poisonously sweet. "As long as Collar here stays out of my way."</p><p>Abigail looked at her, and then away, dismissive, and glanced at Tally instead.</p><p>"She had some <em>thoughts</em> to share about Raelle's mother's service record," Tally murmured flatly.</p><p>Abigail didn't know that much about Raelle's mother, not really. Just enough. Just enough to understand that nobody got to talk about her to Raelle, not if Raelle didn't want them to.</p><p>"Well," Abigail said brightly, and strode closer, stepped right up into Cartwright's face and leaned in, so Cartwright took a reflexive half-step back before she could stop herself. "I'm thinking maybe you're the one who should stay out of Collar's way. And if you don't, I'm thinking there <em>will</em> be a problem. Understand?"</p><p>Cartwright sneered. But Abigail saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, and knew she'd picked up what Abigail was putting down.</p><p>She had O'Malley and Huang at her shoulders, though. She couldn't just back down.</p><p>"Is that so, Bellweather? What are you going to do about it?"</p><p>Abigail didn't hesitate.</p><p>She didn't even open her mouth, didn't bother using a spell. She feinted, and Cartwright fell for it—overcommitted and gave Abigail the opening to kick one leg out from under her, so she fell to the knee of the other.</p><p>Abigail leaned in before she could rise, caught her by the chin.</p><p>"You don't speak to Collar, you don't look at her. You don't sneeze in her direction. Or I will make your life as miserable as I know how. Got it?"</p><p>Cartwright didn't answer—jerked free, and pushed herself to her feet; shook Huang off when Huang tried to help her, bitter with embarrassment. She didn't say anything. She just cast Abigail a sharp look.</p><p>But she didn't so much as glance at Raelle, before she turned around and left the locker room, and took her unit with her.</p><p>"All right?" Abigail said, when she was gone.</p><p>"Yeah," Raelle said quietly.</p><p>"You sure?" Tally said.</p><p>And that was when: right then, when Abigail realized she and Tally had—had closed in around Raelle, unthinking, sheltering. Tally was touching Raelle's arm, just above the elbow, hand clasping gently, and Abigail watched herself reach out for Raelle's shoulder, standing side-to-side with Tally, and it was like closing a circle, a circuit. She could feel the last flickering sparks of irritation that anyone would bother Raelle, anyone who didn't have the right; anyone who wasn't Abigail herself. She was grateful for Tally, grateful that Tally had been there when she hadn't been, and she felt a sudden powerful urge to show it somehow, to make sure Tally understood that sense of trust and warmth and gratitude. She thought to herself that she could <em>kiss</em> Tally, and it should only have been hyperbole, but suddenly her face felt hot.</p><p>And Raelle—she didn't just want to be touching Raelle's shoulder. She wanted to touch Raelle's face, her cheek. She wanted to step in closer, to draw Tally along with her; to close the circle of the three of them so tight no one else would ever get in. She wanted—</p><p>She stopped short of letting herself think it. But she knew, then.</p><p>She knew, and she couldn't un-know it, and she wasn't sure she even wanted to.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tally had felt it all along, in a way.</p><p>She just hadn't known it for what it was. Not until Beltane.</p><p>It had all been at a distance from her, before. In theory, she'd expected boys to be involved, because boys had been involved for all her friends from home. Boys were what they'd giggled about together late at night, what they'd dreamed of and sighed over, and Tally hadn't had any reason to think about it beyond that.</p><p>She'd just wanted to meet someone, and she'd wanted it to be right. And she'd wanted to wait for Beltane.</p><p>She'd dreamed about coming to Fort Salem, too. She'd dreamed about being part of a unit: three witches, joined fast, sisters in arms, trusted and trusting, always together. She hadn't thought about that any harder than she had to, either. Why shouldn't that be just as nice to think of? Why shouldn't that matter just as much as a boy she'd never met?</p><p>That dream had been just as real to her, right up until she'd actually met Abigail and Raelle. She hadn't expected them at all.</p><p>She'd thought—she'd thought it would be <em>easy</em>. Surely they'd all be at Fort Salem for the same reasons; surely they'd all feel the same way about it. They'd be committed, hardworking, united by common purpose. They'd get along without a hitch.</p><p>She'd been wrong.</p><p>And at first, she'd been bitterly disappointed. She hadn't been able to understand what had gone awry, why it wasn't working the way it was supposed to. It had felt like a slap in the face, a dash of cold water.</p><p>She hadn't known then that it would only work out the better for it. That it had taken time and effort, that it <em>hadn't</em> come easily—those things only made it feel worth more when it <em>did</em> come, when they started to figure each other out, when they crept closer to each other inch by grudging inch.</p><p>They helped each other. They looked after each other. They got to know each other.</p><p>And by Beltane, Tally was starting to think it was going to be just as good as she had ever dreamed.</p><p>Better, maybe.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Beltane was <em>amazing</em>.</p><p>There were boys, which was fantastic. The meals, the games—even their training had a different feel to it, a sense of tension and expectation, <em>anticipation</em>. Something wonderful was coming, and Tally felt giddy with it.</p><p>Abigail seemed to know what to do with boys, which wasn't really a surprise; she was always a step ahead when it came to what was expected of her. And even Raelle had found one she got along with, that Byron guy, though Tally was pretty sure they weren't planning to actually do anything. Byron seemed just as happy to spend time with his friend Porter as with Raelle, and Tally suspected there was a really good reason why.</p><p>So it was all going well. Gerit was pretty, and nice, and the way he looked at Tally said that he was imagining the same things she was. She'd worried, childish with anxiety, that something would go wrong, that nobody would feel called to her and she'd end up spending Beltane alone. But Gerit had started to smooth that fear away.</p><p>And the day of—it was the best part of all. It was like a party that went on and on and on, slanting golden sunlight and flowers everywhere, everyone talking and laughing and dressed up, gorgeous. Abigail had picked a dress in a dusky, peachy rose that made her look just a little softer, warm and approachable; and Tally had never imagined anything like Raelle's suit, but it was perfect on her, slim and dark and dramatic, her eyes penciled to match, so stark and blue Tally couldn't stop looking at them.</p><p>She said, "<em>Damn</em>, you look hot," and she meant it. Abigail laughed, and Raelle smiled that slow tiny smile that made her look happier than any five smiles she put on when she was trying to be polite, and Tally thought there was no way it could get any better than this.</p><p>She was still kind of nervous, obviously. But Abigail was patient with her, careful, kind—and she was right, too. This was Tally's chance to explore, to taste things she'd never had before.</p><p>
  <i>Trust the dance. It knows your pleasure, and your heart. It'll work out the way it's supposed to.</i>
</p><p>The Reel wasn't just a dance, they were told. It knew what they wanted, and it knew things about them some of them hadn't even figured out yet. They had to let go, and let the Reel guide them, and when it ended, they had to trust that it had taken them where they needed to be.</p><p>Tally stood there and listened, holding onto Abigail with one hand and Raelle with the other, and felt her heart pound.</p><p>And then everyone cheered and kicked off their shoes, and Tally drew Abigail and Raelle forward with her as the music started.</p><p>They danced. Tally stamped with the drums, whirled with the beat—there were boys she'd never met before, boys whose names she didn't know. She <em>did</em> let go; she stopped worrying, stopped thinking, stopped looking everywhere for Gerit.</p><p>And then she found herself facing Abigail.</p><p>Abigail didn't seem surprised. She laughed, and reached for Tally, took her by the hips and drew her in closer, looking out from under her lashes, sloe-eyed. Tally moved with her, and felt her pulse in her throat, a shiver tingling its way across her skin. Abigail took her by the arm and—</p><p>And spun her away, to face a blond boy in a blue suit. Tally let it happen; it was the Reel. It was all right. It wouldn't take her somewhere she wasn't supposed to go.</p><p>She danced, and danced. She saw a flash of Raelle's pale hair, Abigail's short rippled skirt, and realized they'd found each other, off to one side of Tally. They were parted again a minute later, and Tally felt a strange squeezing ache she didn't understand.</p><p>The Reel took Tally to a girl with wheat-bright braids, a boy in a patterned suit jacket that made her smile.</p><p>And then it brought her to Raelle.</p><p>Raelle, at the edge of the circle they'd all made together, trying to walk away and leave. Tally hurried after her and caught her arm, and Raelle turned to see who it was—rolled her eyes and started to smile again at the same time, and let Tally pull her in again. Raelle didn't dance like Abigail, showy and sensual; she was quieter in the way she moved. But she had a good sense of rhythm, and she let Tally draw her along, spun with flair when Tally tried it. And it was—she didn't look away from Tally, except when she was turning. Her eyes always found Tally again, and Tally didn't really want to look away from her either.</p><p>A boy cut in. They were separated. And then, within two minutes, Tally was in front of Abigail.</p><p>In front of Abigail, again.</p><p>Tally swallowed. That was—was that supposed to happen? Tally didn't think so. Abigail looked briefly startled, but not unhappy; she reached for Tally readily, and they clasped hands and spun around each other, let go and turned and stomped their feet along with everyone else, when the drums told them to, and when they turned back, Raelle was between them.</p><p>They could trust the Reel, Tally thought. She darted in, before Raelle could start edging away, and reached for Abigail's hands again: around Raelle, holding her, circling her, and Abigail grinned at her, and then Raelle shook her head and reached out, put her hands over theirs to either side of herself and turned with them.</p><p>It felt good.</p><p>They parted again. Tally let herself be led out around the edge of the circle, further than she had before.</p><p>It didn't matter. Within five minutes, she was facing Abigail and Raelle, who were turning together at the shoulder, not touching at all, but eyes locked like that stare was holding them together.</p><p>For a second, she thought she should turn away and let someone else take hold of her. Gerit, maybe. He had to be around here somewhere.</p><p>But it was like Abigail and Raelle had felt her. The music changed, just a little, and Abigail and Raelle followed it—looked at her, over their shoulders, and widened their circle into a spiral, opened it up until it wasn't complete, until there was a hole in it. A place for her.</p><p>She stepped into it.</p><p>They spun together. They spread their arms; their hands touched. It wasn't supposed to be like this, was it? They were supposed to find boys. Tally bit her lip, and looked from Raelle to Abigail and back again, uncertain. Abigail looked cool, unreadable, the way she always did when she didn't know what to do. Raelle looked like she was about ten seconds from ducking out and making a break for it.</p><p>
  <i>It'll work out the way it's supposed to.</i>
</p><p>All right, Tally thought. All right.</p><p>She turned her hands, heart pounding, so they weren't just brushing Abigail's and Raelle's anymore—so she could slide her fingers between theirs, and hang on.</p><p>She'd let go, if the music told her to. But she was starting to think it wasn't going to.</p><p>This was holy ritual. This was magic. This felt right, and Tally didn't know what it meant or why it was happening, but in that moment she didn't care. She <em>wanted</em> it, more than she had ever wanted anything.</p><p>She squeezed Abigail's hand. Abigail looked at her and swallowed, throat working, and squeezed back. And then she squeezed Raelle's; and Raelle flicked a shy glance from her to Abigail—took Abigail's other hand, closed the circle, and didn't let go.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>They left the dance together.</p><p>No one stopped them. It felt like someone should have; it felt like they were lit up from the inside out, like something this hot and bright and overwhelming should have been impossible to hide.</p><p>But nobody was looking. Nobody was checking, nobody was counting. Who was there who could have, with the Reel in their ears? Abigail had had two boys hanging off her arms, earlier, and nobody had said a word about it. It didn't have to be pairs; nobody needed to worry about trying to split off evenly, because nobody was going to end up alone. The Reel made it work out the way it was supposed to.</p><p>So they left, hands clasped, darting bright-eyed anxious glances at each other, and wound their way between the trees.</p><p>They kept going for a little while, until the music got faint behind them. Abigail almost didn't want to stop. Once they stopped, they were going to have to talk about this. They were going to have to acknowledge what they were doing. She wanted to stay just like this: Raelle's hand in one of hers, Tally's in the other, feeling her pulse race in her throat, heat in her face and a tremble in her gut, skin prickling even though the evening was mild.</p><p>Lit up, she thought again, and bit her lip.</p><p>But she didn't want to get lost. That would be about the stupidest way to ruin this that she could think of.</p><p>She slowed down when she heard water, and Raelle and Tally slowed with her, not because she made them but just because they must have felt her doing it; like they were tuned in to her as close as she was to them, bodies awake, alight.</p><p>They were in a glade. A little brook cut through, off to one side. That was where the sound had come from. And they were still on the grounds of Fort Salem, they had to be, because the grass was green and thick and soft, nothing poking into the soles of Abigail's bare feet, and the trees were strong and sheltering, whispering to each other in the breeze like they knew secrets—but good ones, sweet ones. Ones that were worth sharing.</p><p>"This isn't," Raelle said quietly, and then stopped. "You aren't—this isn't because of me, is it?"</p><p>Abigail looked at her, and then at Tally.</p><p>It was briefly, cruelly tempting to say yes. To make it her fault, to say they'd been drawn because she wanted them. Abigail was a Bellweather, she couldn't—this hadn't been part of anyone's plans for her, least of all her own.</p><p>Except there was no way she could do that to Raelle. Not now, not anymore. Not for a second. It wouldn't be fair, and it wouldn't be right. Bellweathers didn't do this; but Bellweathers weren't cowards, either.</p><p>"No," she made herself say, tilting her chin up, forcing it to come out firm and steady. "It isn't. It isn't just you. It's us."</p><p>Tally swallowed, throat working visibly. "Are we—is this—" She darted a glance back and forth between them again. "Is this—allowed?"</p><p>"I don't know," Abigail admitted. She looked at Tally, felt Tally's hand in hers; she didn't want to let go of it, deep down and stubborn with it, too aware of the warmth of Tally's skin against her palm. And Raelle—Raelle and her huge pale eyes, outlined clear and dark so they looked half again as big as they were, with the sharp V of that suit jacket cutting down past her collarbones—</p><p>Abigail's heart was pounding. She could feel her breath coming faster. She was—she was pressing her thighs together under her skirt, and she didn't even know when she'd started doing it.</p><p>This wasn't anything she'd been prepared for. She'd picked out the boys she wanted, she'd been ready for that. But this was something else, something different: stronger, fiercer, spilling over from somewhere inside her in a way she couldn't control.</p><p>But it was happening. It was happening, and this was her unit. She was in charge, and they were hers, and she was going to do this right.</p><p>She turned to Raelle, tangled their fingers together and leaned in until their wrists, forearms, elbows, all brushed—that worked on boys, and judging by the little hitching breath Raelle drew in, it was working on her, too.</p><p>"You haven't done this before," Raelle murmured. "Not with girls."</p><p>"Good soldiers know how to improvise when they have to," Abigail told her, with what should have been a smirk but threatened to soften into a smile; and then, before she could waver, she made herself press forward the rest of the distance, and touched her mouth to Raelle's.</p><p>It wasn't that different, she thought distantly. Or at least it didn't feel that different to her. It was knowing it was Raelle that made it seem big, serious, daring. Her skin was hot and stippled with fine-grained shivers at the same time, and she'd meant to be quick, just to prove that she could do this, but she caught on it instead, lingering, parting her lips against Raelle's for a second before she realized what she was doing and drew away.</p><p>Raelle was staring at her, flushed, silent. For an instant, the bottom dropped out of Abigail's stomach—and then Raelle bit her lip and let out an uneven little breath, and Abigail knew she hadn't minded after all.</p><p>"I, um," Tally said. "I haven't done this—at all."</p><p>Abigail felt her mouth slant. She'd known that already, and so had Raelle. It shouldn't have been so good to hear. But it was. It made a hot tingle flash down her spine, something greedy inside her curling in on itself with satisfaction, that they were it for Tally, first, special. That no matter what happened after this, there was a way in which Tally was always going to be a little bit extra theirs, and they all knew it.</p><p>"I remember," she said aloud, and let her hand slide, slow, up Tally's arm until Tally shivered under it—skimmed her way over the soft frilled shoulder of Tally's dress to the side of her throat, the nape of her neck, the better to reach up and skim her hair out of the way and rub a fingertip gently across the mark behind her right ear. Dim, dull, unlit. But it wasn't going to stay that way. "Going to let us light this up for you, huh?"</p><p>Tally swallowed hard, watching her with huge dark eyes, and swayed closer; and then all at once she leaned into Abigail, and kissed Abigail before Abigail could kiss her first. It was clumsy, a little; but it hardly mattered at all, when she was so <em>eager</em>, so earnest and honest and wanting. Abigail made a sound against her mouth, dug her fingers into Tally's hair and kissed back, and she still had a hand closed in Raelle's—it was even better, somehow, knowing Raelle was right there watching them.</p><p>She made herself let go of Tally sooner than she wanted to, cleared her throat and steadied herself and then raised an eyebrow. "Well?" she said.</p><p>Tally and Raelle looked at each other, briefly shy, uncertain. And then Tally laughed, sudden and warm, and leaned in, pressed her forehead to Raelle's and let go of Raelle's hand to touch her cheek. "Come on," she said, "it's okay. It's okay, it's just me," and it was funny, a little, that she should be the one reassuring Raelle, but it also seemed to be exactly what Raelle had needed to hear. She relaxed under Tally's hand, and stopped biting at her mouth, and let her eyes fall shut; Tally kissed her and she softened further still, pliant, color hot in her cheeks.</p><p>"All right, all right," Abigail said, mock-impatient at being left out for even a minute, and they broke apart and grinned, at each other and then at her. Abigail still had one hand in Tally's hair, and she lifted the other to run a thumb along the line of Raelle's jaw, and then up to drag a little at the corner of her mouth. "All right," she repeated, more quietly. "Come on," and she dropped to her knees on the grass and drew them down with her.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>They started out taking turns: careful, unsure, trying maybe a little too hard. But after about a round and a half, making urgent noises into each other's mouths, shuddering against each other, it was—it got easier. They got counterintuitively greedier, for having had a taste of what they wanted, and that made them more impulsive, less cautious, sharing kisses without hesitating, hands tangling between thighs without paying attention to whose was whose, or where.</p><p>It wasn't—it wasn't anything like Raelle had been expecting, that was for sure. She'd never paid much attention to the old high holidays. Hardly anybody did in the Cession, which had older traditions of its own. And she'd been dreading Beltane at Fort Salem, dreading what she might have to do to get through it. Byron had been looking like her best shot at making it the whole night with any company at all; she'd been prepared to make a break for it and go hide in her room if she had to.</p><p>But this was—she'd never have imagined she'd get this.</p><p>She'd thought about it, now and then. Each of them by themselves, at first, and then both of them together, as long as she'd been letting herself imagine things she'd figured had no chance of actually happening. But it had always been sort of vague, only halfway in focus. Abigail, bossy and infuriating and impossible to look away from. Tally, steady and earnest and willing.</p><p>But she'd never let herself sketch in the detail of it: what it would be like to get to bite Abigail's wet mouth and listen to her breath catch in her throat, or push a thigh up between Tally's and watch her head drop back and her eyes squeeze shut. It was amazing, <em>scorching</em>, and it was hers, and she found herself dimly glad that they had all night, that she got to have this again and again, instead of counting down the minutes until it was over.</p><p>The sky was starting to lighten, streaks of clouds warming up gold through the dark leaves overhead, by the time they were done with each other. Or, well—not <em>done</em>, or at least Raelle sure hoped not; but worn out, trembling with satisfaction, curled in close against each other on the grass and trying to catch their breath together.</p><p>"Wow," Tally said, after a minute.</p><p>Raelle laughed under her breath, reached out and slid a thumb behind her right ear; they'd all kept doing it, delighting in it, after the first time had turned her mark bright and shimmering, a smug reminder. Tally turned into her hand and grinned back at her, and Abigail extended a hand across Raelle and brushed a thumb along the curve of one dimple.</p><p>"So, um. Do we—do we get to keep doing that?"</p><p>Raelle closed her eyes, a chill settling. She'd been hoping they could put off asking each other that question for at least a little longer.</p><p>"Who's going to stop us?" Abigail said.</p><p>Raelle blinked, and twisted to look at her.</p><p>She was still lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, dress spread out underneath her; but she'd tipped her chin up in that way she had, that Bellweather way, and she looked stuck-up and stern and immovable. Raelle's heart kicked helplessly in her chest.</p><p>"You mean, you want to—you'll—?"</p><p>"Why not?" Abigail said, shaking her hair back. "I'm not saying I'm going to walk up to my mother this morning and tell her." She paused, mouth twisting. "I'm not sure I'd even know what to say. She'll be expecting me to make a good match, but this isn't—" She stopped, and looked at them, and there was something in her face that made Raelle's breath catch. "This isn't some five-year contract. Or at least it doesn't feel like that to me."</p><p>It would have been so much easier to keep disliking Abigail, Raelle thought wryly, if she didn't insist on being so brave sometimes.</p><p>"No," Tally said quietly. "It isn't."</p><p>"So we're really doing this, then," Raelle said.</p><p>They all looked at each other.</p><p>"We're a unit," Abigail said firmly, at last. "We're a unit, and we're going to stay that way. No matter what happens. All right?"</p><p>She pushed herself up, leaned in over Raelle and kissed her, one hard determined press of mouths—and then reached for Tally, drew her up and did the same.</p><p>"Okay," Tally agreed, and looked down, touched Raelle's mouth where Abigail had just kissed it, and Raelle smiled at her without even really having meant to and tugged her down, and kissed her, too.</p><p>"All right," Raelle said, half into Tally's mouth, and Abigail leaned in against her shoulder, clasped their hands together and didn't let go.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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